


No, Now

by Loverontheleft



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, F/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 12:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loverontheleft/pseuds/Loverontheleft
Summary: Inspired and prompted by various messages on tumblr during Bs VMA red carpet appearance/performance.





	No, Now

**Author's Note:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“Come with me.” Your voice is low and your eyes dart around. Zack is miraculously distracted and you grab Brendon’s sleeve, tugging him through a set of double doors marked “Crew Only.”

“Y/n, darlin, I think we’re supposed to still be -“

“Sssssssh.” You give him a look and drag him down a dark backstage hallway. “Don’t draw attention.” You pause and look over his grey jacket with metallic detailing and how it’s catching the light. “Any more attention,” you amend, grinning. You cast a look around and spy a dressing room door hanging ajar. “Perfect.”

You lead the way, fingers interlocked, and you shove the door shut behind him, pushing him against the wall. “Y/n,” and his voice is slightly strangled, “this isn’t my-“

You press your lips to his. “Shut up,” you murmur against his mouth and he nods, bringing both hands to your face and eagerly returning the kiss. While he’s engrossed, your fingers start fumbling with his belt, jerking it out of place and letting it hit the floor.

“Darlin, don’t you think we should wai-“

“No, now.” You pull back from the kiss to glance down and unclasp his pants, unzipping them roughly. You bite back a moan and shove them down by the waistband, eyes heavy with want when you see his erection stirring. You drop to your knees in front of him and mouth over him through his briefs, relishing the dull thud of his head against the door.

“Y/n, why-“

“Because you’re fucking incredible and I’ve been eying you in this jacket since 4 in the afternoon and now we’re here and everyone is staring; no one can take their eyes off of you. But I’m the only one who gets you and I want you. Now.” You’re breathing hard and you slide your hands up his thighs, biting your lip as you meet his eyes. “Can I have you, Brendon?”

“Jesus y/n, like I’m gonna say no to that face and those eyes when you’re down on your knees for me.”

You grin and yank his underwear down, closing your mouth over his half-hard cock. “Love it like this,” you moan, pulling back to delicately lick him, one hand encircling the base while the other rests flat on his thigh. “Love feeling how hard you get in my mouth, on my tongue,” you tell him before closing your mouth over him again. You’re glad you straightened your hair; he’s got both hands in it and he’s tugging slightly like he knows you like when you’re going down on him. If you had curled it, it wouldn’t be half as easy to fix when you’re done with him.

“God, Y/n, don’t stop,” he sighs, watching you through hooded eyes. You nod slightly, taking him deeper and pressing in close so the swell of your breasts pushes against his thighs; you can feel him twitch in your mouth, his grip on your hair tightening.

There’s a hesitant knock on the door and you both freeze. “Mr. Urie? Uhm. If you’re in there. Uhm. They’re looking for you.” If it weren’t such an embarrassing situation to be caught in, you’re sure it’d be a hilarious image - all things considered. Either way, you scramble to your feet, backing away and he tucks himself back into place and yanks his pants up, giving you a playfully scolding look. He opens the door and the intern, the clipboard in her hand visibly trembling, looks petrified. “I’m - I’m sorr - they’re trying to get everyone seated and - I’m really sorry,” she stammers and you feel bad for putting her in this position. She probably drew the short stick.

In a manner far calmer than expected, he takes your hand and smiles gently at the girl. “Lead the way,” he says kindly and she nods frantically, setting off a quick pace.

When you’re seated, you squeeze his hand and he turns to you, eyes sparkling. “I’m sorry,” you whisper and he shrugs, grinning. “No, that was all my fault, I’m really sorry.”

He purses his lips in thought, shaking his head a little. “Don’t stress about it. Could have been far worse. I’m not worried.” His hand slips from yours to high on your upper thigh, where he lets it rest possessively. “You’ll be finishing that later, yeah?” He winks at you and you blush, nodding. “Good. Fucking love that mouth.”

-||-

The crowd is screaming and the band is rushing off stage and his whole face is glowing; performing gives him such a high. You’re waiting off-stage and he grabs you full-force, kissing you hard and pressing you against him with his hand on the small of your back. “Want you,” he whispers against your lips and you grin. “Now.” He takes your hand to lead the way and you can hear the protesting of the stage manager but he gives up, quickly barking into his headset that they need two seat fillers for the Uries. That sounds like a full endorsement of Brendon’s plan, and you both grin. Let them talk.

He pulls you into the dressing room he used earlier to change from the red-carpet wear to his suit, and he’s barely got the door fully closed and his suit jacket off before you’re on your knees, snapping his belt open and dragging everything down, practically panting at the thought of getting him in your mouth and then he’s rocking forward, pressing the head of that perfect dick against your lips. You both moan a little when you flick your tongue out to lick your lips, rubbing them together and against him. You open your mouth slightly, tongue laving over his length as he presses forward gently, his hands back in your hair. “Yeah baby, you look so pretty like this,” he groans, caressing the back of your head but not pushing or urging you. “Such a good girl, down on her knees for me.”

You whimper around his cock, eyelashes fluttering; he knows what his praise does to you. You let one hand curve around his waist while your other wanders down between your legs to rub small circles on your clit; going down on each other gets you both so worked up. You’re grateful for your choice in dresses; you went with a wrap dress, so kneeling like this, you can let either side open around you, knees slightly spread. “That’s my job, baby,” he tells you, watching your fingers fly over yourself with a hint of jealousy. You slow down but don’t stop, eyes daring him to scold you.

He’s about to when his hand tightens around the curve of the back of your neck, breathing hard because you’re swallowing around him, teasing him.

At this point, you’re not sure how long you’ve been on your knees, but you can’t get enough of him. You’re both making small, soft noises of pleasure as you give him the leeway to rock into your mouth gently. You move your hand from his waist to press flat against his stomach and you can feel his breathing getting shallow and his muscles are tensing. Since he dragged you back here, there’s been at least four explosions of applause; you’re figuring it’s been maybe ten, fifteen minutes. You’re probably running out of time before another poor intern is sent to find the two of you. You regretfully move away from your clit and cup both of his balls in your slick hand, squeezing gently and pushing them up against him while you take him deeper, nose pressed to his pelvis. “God, baby, I’m gonna come,” he tells you a little breathlessly, his hands tugging at your hair. You nod, meeting his eyes and when he looks at you, he swears softly, hips twitching forward once more as he finishes, groaning when you swallow, making happy noises and running a hand over his thigh, the other stroking him through his peak, encouraging him to fill your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he pants, tipping his hips back when he can’t take it any longer. He runs a hand through his hair before dropping to his knees so he’s level with you. “I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you hard. You moan into his mouth and grab one of his hands, pulling it down between your legs and rocking against his fingers. “And I fucking love this,” he adds as he rubs two fingers against you before sliding them in, muffling your cry of pleasure when he crushes his lips to yours. He brings his fingers back after a moment, letting the tip of his tongue trace them as he runs his other hand through your hair. “God, I need more. Need to taste you,” he whispers and you feel yourself get even wetter.

“Bren, we probably don’t have time; they’re gonna be looking for us - well, for you - isn’t your category soon?”

He shrugs as he hauls you to your feet and carries you over to the couch, gently reclining you with his hand still supporting your head. “Don’t care. Want you now,” he insists.

You start to protest again but he squashes your arguments when he kisses your lips lightly and moves down your jawline, your neck, to the swell of your breasts in the deep V of your dress. His fingers toy with the tie of your dress, biting his lip. “Want you. Can I have you? All wrapped up in this dress like a present for me…can I have you, honey?” You nod and he swiftly pulls the tie, the shimmery material slipping and sliding off of your body, leaving you exposed for him. “Damn,” he murmurs, running a hand along your side. “Hate that I have to make this quick.”

And with that, he’s rocking back onto his knees between your legs, dipping his head down to run his tongue across you while both hands massage your hips and thighs, encouraging you to spread your legs and let him make you feel good. You’re breathless, his mouth is so warm and wet, his tongue just slipping from side to side. He’s teasing you; he scoots further down and shifts slightly so his chin is pressed against the lower part your opening and his lips and tongue are just working against you hard. The man fucks with every part of himself; he groans and opens his mouth wider to push his tongue deep into you while he brings a hand down to rub at your clit, moaning when your hips rock forward, giving him more. You’ve got a hand in his hair, tugging slightly but mostly keeping him pressed against you. “Yeah baby, like that,” you sigh happily as he switches, fingers thrusting deep and tongue swirling over your clit softly. “Oh fuck,” you whisper when he spreads his fingers, rotating slightly and he looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “Feels good,” you tell him and he winks at you, adjusting his jaw to press his chin against you more, letting you grind in place. As much as you love your clit getting attention, you’ve always loved firm pressure a bit lower, and he gives you that. “Bren, ‘m close,” you sigh, and he makes an encouraging noise, letting his eyes slip shut to focus on you. His fingers, still working you hard, suddenly curl inside you, rubbing and pressing and you shriek, feeling yourself come hard on his fingers and mouth.

“Fuck yeah, come on my face, honey,” he groans, tongue slipping from your clit to lap at you and his thumb quickly replaces his tongue, keeping the pressure light but pulsing over your clit to keep the sensations coming. A low moan slips through your lips and he gives you one more slow stroke with his tongue, dragging it over you before sitting back on his heels, licking his lips and wiping a hand over his face, smirking when you blush.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and he looks at you incredulously.

“Baby, I fucking told you to come on my face and did just about everything in my power to ensure you would. Don’t apologize.” You blush deeper, shifting as he runs his tongue over each finger. “Don’t wanna miss anything,” he says with a wink and you laugh, feeling how slick your thighs are. You run two fingers across your inner thighs before bringing them to his mouth, moaning softly when he sucks at them greedily. “Fuck, honey,” he manages to say around your fingers before sucking hard again.

“So sexy,” you whisper, watching his heavy eyes darken at the taste and the way his full lips slide off your fingers. You’re both breathing heavy and he shifts forward to crawl over you, settling between your thighs, chest to chest, lips seeking yours. “Love you,” you murmur, and he repeats it back to you, smoothing your hair.

It would have been a sweet moment if there hadn’t been a rapid knocking at the door. “Mr. Urie, we really need you; your category is coming up and the seat fillers can’t fill in for your close-up reaction shot.” The stage manager sounds annoyed and you both scramble up.

“Sounds like we’re in trouble,” he says with a smirk, re-tying your dress and pulling his jacket on, adjusting the collar. He gives you a once over and you nod. He opens the door and you push it shut again, kissing him hard and sliding a hand down the front of his pants, squeezing lightly.

“I want more later.”

He nods, teeth catching your lower lip and tugging gently. “Oh, believe me, honey, you’ll get more.” He opens the door and the stage manager rolls his eyes, beckoning over his shoulder as he sets off at a brisk pace.

When you get back to your seats, he gives you both a stern look. “No more sneaking off? We’re going to be professional adults and sit here nicely for the camera and not give me a stress-induced heart attack?”

You grin and Brendon laughs; you both promise and the stage manager stalks off, leaving you both to, you assume he assumes, simmer in your shame.

Brendon’s hand creeps up your thigh, rubbing soft circles over it. He leans over, breath hot on your neck and his voice low. “Just you wait til I can get you in the car. I have so much more planned for you and your sweetness. Earlier was just the appetizer, and honey, you know I’m still hungry.”


End file.
